WOMAN IN THE WATER
Katerina Diamond

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

Copyright © Katerina Diamond 2019

Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Cover photograph © Claudia Carlsen/Arcangel Images

Katerina Diamond asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008282950

Ebook Edition © November 2019 ISBN: 9780008282967

Version: 2019-09-17

Praise for Katerina Diamond

‘Diamond is the master of gripping literature’

Evening Standard

‘A terrific story, originally told. All hail the new queen of crime!’

Heat

‘A web of a plot that twists and turns and keeps the reader on their seat … don’t read it before bed if you’re easily spooked!’

Sun

‘A page-turner with a keep-you-guessing plot’

Sunday Times Crime Club

‘Packed with twists until the last page’

Closer

‘Deliciously dark, keeps her readers guessing throughout as she leads us on a very secretive, VERY twisted journey’

Lisa Hall, bestselling author of Between You and Me

Dedication

For Pat and Kitty

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Katerina Diamond

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty-One

Chapter Eighty-Two

Chapter Eighty-Three

Acknowledgements

Author’s Note

Keep Reading …

About the Author

By the same author

About the Publisher

Prologue

It’s so cold out here. I stare up at the ink blue sky above me, not a cloud in sight, and focus on the stars, a passing airplane twinkles and blinks as it crosses. I hear my name being called, but aside from shivering, I can’t move, my whole body numb. I don’t want them to find me.

I’m as close to death as I have ever been, but I still hang on. I don’t know why when I have wished for the end so many times before. I need to stop fighting it. I need to let myself just slip away.

Chapter One

DS Adrian Miles soaked in the sunrise as he drove home along Glasshouse Lane after a few days away with his partner, DS Imogen Grey, far from local prying eyes. They had barely noticed the relationship creeping up on them. They had gone from strangers to good friends within weeks of meeting each other, then things had blossomed and grown between them until the chemistry was undeniable. They were still in the early stages, not enough to announce anything, not enough to tell anyone.

He smiled to himself as he thought about the last few days, weeks, months. Every moment was a countdown to the next time they could be alone together.

It was always so quiet on these suburban streets, especially at this time in the morning, and the calming effect of the River Exe seemed to ebb into these surrounding neighbourhoods. Something about living near water makes people generally more relaxed. He must have driven past at least ten people out for a morning stroll with their dogs. Maybe getting a dog would be a good way to get out of the house more; these days, he mostly just drove anywhere rather than walk.

More often than not, as he drove he found himself thinking about Imogen and missing her when she wasn’t beside him, in any capacity. These feelings had crept up on him and he found himself completely losing himself to her, as though he had no choice in the matter. He’d also sometimes find himself smiling, without realising. Was this happiness?

It was certainly difficult with Imogen wanting to keep it a secret. Although relationships were allowed it definitely complicated things at work. The DCI had expressed in the past that she wasn’t overly keen on relationships within the unit. It was a mess for sure, but worst-case scenario one of them could transfer to a different division. He wouldn’t let work get in the way of this. Adrian had never felt like other people in as much as he had never thought himself capable of a meaningful and grown-up relationship. If that’s what this was then he would rather lose his job than her. He couldn’t lose her, not after all the pain of losing his previous more serious relationships. Jobs were replaceable, people weren’t.

He spotted a group of women gathered by the riverside wall. As much as anything, it was a strange time of day for this kind of gathering. The sun was barely up. They were looking over towards a small muddy offshoot of river that ran through the thickets. There was something about the way they were talking to each other that made Adrian pull the car over. Brows creased, they turned towards him, eyeing him suspiciously before turning their attention back to something on the other side of the wall.

‘Everything all right?’ Adrian said, pulling his warrant card from his pocket and showing the women.

Their faces lightened immediately and one of the women stepped forwards. She scrutinised his ID before speaking.

‘There’s something in the water. The kids were out playing on that patch of grass last night. They kept saying how there was someone in the water and this morning my two maintained they saw a dead body down in the water before they came home – had nightmares because of it. We thought it was part of their game last night, you know what kids are like. We can’t really see from here and none of us want to climb the wall to go and check. There’s something there but it’s in the shadow of those bushes. It could be anything.’

‘Why didn’t you call the police?’ Adrian asked.

‘I don’t know if you’ve got kids, but they can be known to tell the odd porky. I asked the girls if they would come with me and look, but there are so many bushes we can’t see anything clearly.’

‘Where?’ Adrian said, walking up to the wall and looking over into the riverside shrubbery.

The light was terrible and so he would have to climb over to take a closer look.

‘Can you see that blue thing?’ The same woman who had spoken pointed towards the left side of the greenery.

Adrian put his card back in his pocket and hoisted himself over the wall, trying to make it look effortless – he had an audience, after all.

The drop on the other side was a little lower and he just managed to save himself from embarrassment when he fell by placing his hand on the ground as though he were a superhero who had fallen from a great height. Anything over four feet was a bit too high for Adrian. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone, but he wanted to avoid any humiliation, as this could all end up in a police report, depending on what he found in the river.

He took his phone out of his pocket and switched on the torch; the sky had adopted a grey-and-orange hue as the sun hid behind the houses. The blue thing in the bushes looked like denim. It was obscured and could just as easily be a discarded denim jacket or plastic bag from a newsagent as anything else. He tried not to think about the anything else. As he got closer it became clear that whatever it was, it wasn’t a discarded item of clothing. Please don’t let it be a child.

Holding his breath, Adrian edged closer to the pair of legs that lay in the undergrowth, the top of the body still obscured by the bushes. Forced to climb into the river, he put his phone between his teeth as he walked around the legs into the water. It was cold and muddy; he tried not to slip on the mud banks as he made his way to the top of the form. After taking the phone from his mouth, he shone the light on the legs, gradually moving upwards until he found a head.

It was a woman. She wore a baggy cream Aran jumper and jeans. One of her boots was missing. Her right arm, hips and backside were submerged in the water, but her body was contorted in such a way that her head, legs and left arm were out of the water. Her face was dirty, one eye swollen from a possible fracture as the bruising had closed it, but her other big blue eye was staring at him, fixed.

He turned the torch off on his phone and dialled DI Matt Walsh.

‘We need a team down on Glasshouse Lane. I’ve sent over my location. I’ve found a body in the water.’

‘A body in the water? A dead body? How?’ Walsh responded.

‘Well, I was driving down the road when I saw a group of women by the riverside wall. I approached the women and they said that last night their kids were playing outside and this morning told their parents they saw something that resembled a body.

‘Description of the victim is: female, Caucasian, maybe twenty-five years old, blonde hair, blue eyes. Looks like she was assaulted beforehand. She’s been here at least the one night, not sure how much longer.’

Suddenly, Adrian felt a hand grip his calf. The kind you half expect when you step out of bed in the middle of the night. He froze. He took a deep breath before turning the dim light of the phone screen towards the woman to illuminate her face. She blinked slowly.

She was alive.

‘Adrian?’ Walsh said.

‘She’s alive, Walsh, get an ambulance! She’s alive!’

Chapter Two

Adrian immediately removed his jacket and threw it over the woman to keep her warm. He stuffed his phone into his back pocket and knelt down next to her, gently removing the muddy hair from her face. She was younger than him, mid twenties at a guess.

‘Can you hear me? I’m Detective Sergeant Adrian Miles; I’m going to help you. Can you move?’

She nodded her head weakly. How long had she been here? She must be freezing. Even in the summer the river wasn’t warm.

‘Can you tell me your name?’

‘I’m so c-c-cold,’ she said faintly.

‘We have to wait here for the guys with the stretcher, OK? I don’t want to move you in case anything is broken.’

He went to stand again but she grabbed his hand, this time with more strength than before.

‘P-p-please get me out of h-h-here,’ the woman whispered.

DS Miles could see she had tried to pull herself out of the water, which is why only part of her was still submerged.

‘We really should wait for the paramedics.’

‘C-cold … P-please,’ she rasped.

‘OK, I’ll try. But you tell me straight away if I hurt you.’

Lying next to her on the bank, Adrian got as close to her as he could, the chill of the water against his thighs inconsequential. She groaned as he tilted her enough that he could slip his shoulder underneath hers and gradually slide his arm under her for support as he tried to pull her from the brambles. She was weak and completely limp, with barely enough strength to lift her head. The left side of her torso was supported by the right side of his. Some of her blonde hair had become entangled in the spiny branches that protruded from the hedge. Adrian gently tugged at the hair to dislodge it, leaving some of it behind.

As soon as she was free, he put his arm around her waist and tried to move with her away from the hedge. Her head thumped against his chest. He felt her sigh heavily, her weak heartbeat gently beating against his arm. He pushed his legs against the floor of the muddy bank and as he moved up onto the safety of the grass, she moved with him. He sat up and she lolloped forwards, weak from exhaustion. Adrian didn’t care to think how long she had been lying there. He moved her onto his lap and put her arm around his shoulder.

‘Can you put your arms around my neck and hold it? I need to use my arm to leverage myself to standing.’

Fingernails dug into his skin. He could feel that she was using everything she had to hold on and probably wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, so he pushed himself up before quickly making sure both of his arms were securely around her. He heard the gasps of the women as he emerged from the bushes with the woman lying against him.

‘Oh my God!’ one of the women cried.

‘Is she alive?’ another shouted.

‘Could you get some blankets or something to warm her up quickly while we wait for the medics?’

In situations like this, it was instinct and training that carried Adrian through, but at some point, there is a moment where you get to think about what is actually going on and that’s when the reality of the situation hits home. Who was this girl? How had she got here? Who had done this to her? She was petite and her injuries were not the result of an accident. He could see fingermarks on her neck and he clenched his jaw to suppress the rage that threatened.

Adrian lay her on the grass and stroked her forehead. She began to tremble and Adrian hoped the medics would appear before she got hypothermia.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice breaking as she spoke, and a guttural moan followed soon after as she began to cry.

The ladies from the houses opposite the wall appeared holding blankets. He noticed one of them was filming with their mobile phone, which ignited the anger that he was fighting so hard to suppress.

‘I’ll be back in a moment. I’m just going to grab those blankets, see if we can warm you up a bit.’

She tried to grab at his shirt, to stop him from leaving. She mouthed as if to speak but nothing came out.

‘I won’t be a second. I’m coming back, I promise.’

He stood and walked over to the woman holding the phone.

‘Can I ask you not to share that video until we have had a chance to identify the woman and inform her family. It would be horrible to find out something like this from a video on the internet, wouldn’t it?’

‘Oh, I wasn’t going to share it,’ she said, her cheeks flushing.

‘My colleagues will be here any second to take all of your names. Please just wait here.’

‘I got you these blankets; they are my kids’ blankets; it’s all I had. Sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

Adrian took the blankets and walked back to the lady on the ground. He was starting to feel cold himself. He was thankful that the area was poorly lit, so at least the video would be poor quality. He covered her with the kitten-patterned blankets and waited for the ambulance; the sirens were getting closer.

In the back of the ambulance, Adrian stayed with the woman. It felt wrong to leave her at this point. She must have been terrified and hopefully, she knew she could trust Adrian by now. The paramedics had cut off her wet jeans and covered her in a thermal blanket to help bring her temperature back up.

‘What happened?’ one of the paramedics said.

‘Some kids found her; I just pulled her out. I’m hoping the doc can tell us more about what’s happened to her.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘I don’t know,’ Adrian said, realising she hadn’t answered him when he had asked her before.

‘What’s your name, love?’ the paramedic asked the woman, leaning down to hear better.

The woman winced and closed her eyes as the ambulance went over a pothole. She squeezed Adrian’s hand weakly.

They pulled up outside the hospital and Adrian saw that Dr Hadley was waiting outside the emergency department’s bay doors. Adrian had texted her to come and meet them. Dr Hadley had worked with the police on numerous occasions and Adrian knew she specialised in women’s cases, especially where sexual assault was a probability. The clothes the victim was wearing were intact when he found her, which was unusual in cases of sexual assault. But whatever had happened to her, this was a horrific attack that she wasn’t going to be getting over anytime soon. If she made it, that is.

‘I’m going to go now, but I will be back.’

‘Please don’t go,’ the woman said.

‘This is my friend Dr Hadley and she is going to look after you, OK? I’ll be back before you know it,’ Adrian told her.

The woman nodded.

‘Thank you, DS Miles. I’ll give you a call after I’ve done a thorough examination,’ Dr Hadley said with a heavy sigh as she appraised the woman’s condition.

Adrian watched as they wheeled the trolley into the hospital through the emergency doors, two uniformed officers following behind. The ambulance doors closed and the vehicle drove out of the bay.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, DS Miles texted Imogen to come and pick him up. Still covered in mud, his clothes still damp, Adrian needed to get changed before the last half an hour got a chance to creep under his skin. Someone had hurt this woman and discarded her. He was going to find out who.

Chapter Three

Imogen put a towel down on the passenger seat of her car before Adrian sat down. He had that look in his eye, that angry, determined look he got when he was well into a case and it wasn’t going their way. Whatever he had seen had obviously affected him; he seemed anxious and slightly haunted.

‘What happened? I only saw you a couple of hours ago,’ she asked.

‘That woman I found. She was completely fucked up, thrown away like rubbish. It was awful. I thought she was dead. She looked dead.’

‘You found her in time, though. You got her to the hospital.’

‘Who does that to another person? Sometimes I feel like we are swimming against the tide with this job, I really do. Every day it’s something else; it never stops.’

Imogen knew that this was about more than the woman he had rescued today – it was about the woman he grew up with, about his parents. Adrian rarely talked about his mother, but Imogen knew that his father had been violent and that Adrian struggled to accept aggression towards women on any level. She knew what it was like to grow up in challenging circumstances, but not a day went by when she wasn’t grateful that there was no kind of abuse in her own childhood; she had seen what it had done to friends. Working in the police, she knew how demoralising an abusive childhood was and how massively it impacted who people became.

‘You’ll feel better after you get cleaned up,’ she said. ‘We can go straight back to the hospital as soon as you’ve showered.’

‘What if she dies?’

‘Whatever comes next, we are going to find out what happened to her. She’s not going to die. I know it. You saved her, Adrian.’

Imogen parked the car near Adrian’s house and he jumped out immediately. He didn’t want to hang around, she could tell. He unlocked his door and went inside, leaving it open for her to follow.

Imogen made herself comfortable on the sofa and waited for Adrian to return. She was at home in his house now, maybe even more at home here than in her own place.

There was an old cookery show on TV; it was one she hadn’t seen since her mum was alive and she felt a pang of sadness as thoughts of her mother crossed her mind. They used to watch Keith Floyd together regularly; her mother loved his vibrancy and authenticity. She would wink and say that she had met him once, and Imogen wondered if it was code, a clue that he was her biological father. The mythical bio-dad who was everything from a prince to a crack addict – it seemed silly now to think that she thought this TV celebrity might be her father. There again, her mother had a way of doing the unexpected, so it wasn’t completely out of the question.

It had been almost a year since her mother had died and she had barely allowed herself time to think about her. Once she gave herself that permission, there would be no stopping it and so she preferred not to start. Imogen had always felt as though crying was a weakness in some way and so she was loath to succumb. She switched channels until she found something less emotionally challenging.

Her eyes became heavy as she focused on the screen, the Northern accents a refreshing change from the Devonshire twang that she was used to.

Adrian’s lips woke her, pressing against hers gently; she wondered what she must look like and hoped she wasn’t drooling.

‘I forgot to say thanks,’ he said before kissing her again.

She kissed him back.

‘Feel better?’ Imogen said.

‘I’m sorry if I was a shit,’ Adrian said, perching on the sofa next to her.

She moved to accommodate him and nestled in his arm as he drew her closer.

‘You weren’t. I get it. That must have been a traumatic experience for you. Sorry you had to go through it alone.’

‘I’d better get back to the hospital,’ Adrian said.

‘Can we just stay here for a minute?’

‘DI Walsh is already there. She hasn’t woken yet, but I’d like to be there when she does eventually wake up. I offered for us to do the night shift. He just phoned to tell me the doctor ruled out sexual assault.’

‘Well, that’s something at least,’ Imogen said.

‘Is it? I don’t see how anything could have made it any worse. She was as near to death as anyone I have ever seen. When I felt her hand around my leg, I thought I had lost my mind. She looked so … she just looked gone. I should have checked her pulse straight away.’

‘She’s in good hands now. The doctors will take care of her. We just need to find out who she is and how she ended up there. How about you? Are you OK?’

‘I don’t know if OK is the right word for it.’

‘I can see your brain ticking over. You can’t overthink this one; you’re going to do your head in. You acted quickly and now that woman is in hospital getting treatment thanks to you. You did absolutely everything you could. This isn’t on you. This is on whoever did that to her, OK?’

‘This is going to be a messy one, isn’t it?’ Adrian sighed.

‘Let’s hope we have seen the worst of it. Whatever happened to her, she’s got us now. And we can make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else,’ Imogen placated but knew his mind was already swimming with the ghosts of his own past.

‘I wish I shared your optimism.’

‘If I had been through what she had been through then there is no one else I would want on my side. You saved her life, Adrian. Remember that.’

Chapter Four

I am in a hospital bed, everything hurts and I don’t know how I got here. Various nurses and doctors come and go – I haven’t opened my eyes yet, but I hear them speaking. I know from their conversation that I have no identification on me and they have no other way for them to identify me. I wonder if this is all a dream – am I really asleep? Or maybe I’m really dead and in some kind of celestial waiting room. I can’t say I would be devastated if that were the case. I feel no pain – I am grateful for the drugs they’ve given me. I fade in and out of sleep, undecided on whether or not I even want to wake. Maybe this time I can disappear. I have a head start and he thinks I’m dead.

Chapter Five

Adrian watched the numbers and lines on the heart monitor. He had no idea what any of the information meant, but it was steady and so he assumed that was a good thing. They weren’t in intensive care either, which also boded well for the mystery woman. The easy chair in the hospital cubicle was comfortable and he had volunteered to stay until the woman woke. He had sent Imogen home after a couple of hours; there was no point in both of them losing the night.

Adrian was shaken by what had happened. He had seen plenty of horrific cases in his time as a DS and he wondered if there would ever come a time when he wasn’t shocked by this kind of thing. But being upset was the right reaction. The moment you stopped being upset was the moment you should go and do something else. It’s normal to be afraid or angry. It’s normal to feel frustrated or powerless in some situations. You had to keep it inside, though. You had to stay strong, not just for yourself, but also for the people around you. One chink in the armour and all of your defences were compromised.

A nurse came in with a small basin and a cloth. She smiled uncomfortably at Adrian then gently wiped the woman’s face and hair, trying to soften the mud that had now dried on her skin and clumped together at her roots. They had already scraped under her fingernails and taken photographs of any abrasions or bruises. But legally they couldn’t take blood samples or test her DNA without consent and she would need to be awake for that. The nurse rinsed the cloth and dabbed at a cut across the woman’s eyebrow.

As he watched the nurse, Adrian remembered his mother, a fragment of time that they shared together. In a conscious effort to block out his father, Adrian’s mother had also disappeared into the back regions of Adrian’s memory, but it hadn’t worked and his father now became more prominent than ever.

The moment he thought of now was of his mother sitting with him at the kitchen table, remnants of a shattered plate on the floor as they played Connect 4. Adrian’s father had thrown the plate across the room and it had glanced off his mother’s temple before smashing against the terracotta floor tiles. She steadied herself against the counter and, in order to distract Adrian from the argument, she smoothed her skirt and suggested he run upstairs and get a game for them to play.

When he returned, she had a plaster over her eyebrow and it was as if nothing had happened. They played the game over and over until bedtime, presumably just to avoid any kind of conversation or acknowledgment of what had transpired. Until weeks later, that is, when there was a fragment of blue-and-white willow china lodged under the corner of the washing machine that his mother had missed. The rest of the memories of his mother then faded and reappeared with little clarity; she was an extra in his childhood with barely a speaking role.

Outside, the light faded as the machines bleeped and blinked at regular intervals. Who was this woman? Why had no one reported her missing? Was no one missing a daughter? A sister? Wife? No one even remotely matching her description was in the recent additions to the missing persons database. This was highly unusual and Adrian considered all the questions he didn’t even know to ask yet. Already unnerved, Adrian folded his arms and settled in for the night.

Troubling dreams woke him – bruised faces of women he had questioned over his years in the police. Whether it was a husband, a father or a stranger, the assailants were almost always men and more often than not they were known to the victim. He knew that domestic violence wasn’t purely men against women, but in his experience that was much more common, or at least women coming forward and reporting it was. People warn you about strangers, but no one warns you about the people you love, the people who say they love you.

He looked over at the woman and saw something different about the way she was breathing. It was shorter, shallower – more controlled than before. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and he stood slowly so as not to startle the woman who was almost certainly now awake. Her one good eye opened and she looked across to him; the swelling in the other had reduced significantly since he had found her. She started to breathe faster.

‘Hey, I’m a police officer. My name is DS Adrian Miles. I found you by the river. Do you remember?’

She blinked away a tear and he felt her fingers brush against his hand.

‘Water,’ she mouthed.

He couldn’t hear her, but he could see the formation of the word on her lips.

‘I’ll get a nurse.’

‘Wait,’ she whispered again, the faint noise coming from her. Then she wrapped her fingers around his. ‘Thank you.’

Out of nowhere, Adrian felt a weight in his throat. What if he hadn’t found her when he did? Adrian leaned in and spoke softly to her.

‘Can you tell me your name?’

She closed her eye again, although this time it stayed closed tight as a tear rolled down her face.

‘I don’t remember,’ she said weakly.

Chapter Six

The police officer is sitting by my bed. I have the smallest memory of him pulling me out of the water. I open my eyes and he rushes over. He asks my name again but I tell him I don’t remember.

Maybe I could get away this time. Couldn’t I? He has that look in his eyes; I have seen it a million times before. He tells me I am safe now. He thinks he saved me. I can’t be saved.

Chapter Seven

Imogen stood by the wall and looked over the crime scene. She hadn’t been able to relax, so she took Adrian to the hospital last night and got down to Glasshouse Lane as soon as the sun came up the next morning. They needed to figure out what had happened to their Jane Doe. Best-case scenario, they would find some kind of identification that the woman dropped. Imogen knew the scene hadn’t been fully processed yet and so there would be people there.

It was a huge area to cover. The woman could have got to the river from several access points and they would need to check all of those as well as the routes from the access points to where she was now. Not to mention the fact that the river itself posed a massive problem in terms of processing evidence. Even just getting hold of the correct equipment took time, as it had to be shared with the whole constabulary. Water and forensics didn’t mix.

Imogen climbed the makeshift step that put her on the other side of the wall. She saw the techs working meticulously beside the riverbank, pulling snagged hair and fabric from the branches that overhung the water. The inhabitants of the houses surrounding the area gathered back by the road to try to catch a glimpse of the crime scene technicians at work. DI Matt Walsh was already there when she arrived and he surveyed the river, trying to work out where the woman could have come from.

The forensics team were spaced out along the riverbank looking for any evidence that pertained to the woman Adrian found. Imogen looked on at the chaotic hedgerows that enclosed the water and was glad at least that this part wasn’t her job. She didn’t have the patience for something as meticulous as forensics.

‘They’ve got another one!’ someone called.

It took a few moments to realise what that meant. No one moved and then suddenly everyone sprang into action. There was someone else in the water.

Imogen walked as quickly as she could to the technician who had called out, careful not to step on anything that could later be determined as evidence.

‘Got another what? A person?’ Imogen asked.

‘Yep, about a mile upriver.’

‘Alive?’ Imogen said.

The technician shook his head as Matt Walsh got to him.

‘What’s going on?’ Walsh asked.

‘There’s another body, but according to the technician at the scene it’s difficult to discern anything. Male this time. He’s in a pretty bad way, apparently. He’s been beaten, by the sounds of it. They are just securing it now. There’s no real riverbank up that end and so they will transport it straight to the morgue.’

‘They can’t tell anything else?’ DI Walsh asked the tech.

‘Late twenties at a guess, but we will know more when we get him back to the pathologist.’

‘We’ll need to set up a tent before the news cameras get wind of this. Dead body adds to the news appeal of this case and we need to find out who it is, first. Did you speak to DS Miles? Is the woman awake yet?’

‘Yes, DS Miles called to say she’s awake but she hasn’t said anything meaningful yet. She claims she doesn’t remember anything. Including her name.’

‘Get over there and see if you can find out anything about this man. The DCI is going to want a briefing ASAP with both you and Adrian. See if you can drag him away from the hospital. He seems to be taking this case rather personally.’

‘He did pull her out of the river. He feels responsible for her. That’s all. I’ll do my best to get her to talk.’

‘They must be connected and so she must know something. Tread lightly, but see if you can push for information on who did this to them and who the other victim is.’

Imogen trudged back to the car. As awful as it was, a body would at least tell them something – it was a break in the case. But then, what could the motive be? Revenge? Hatred? Punishment? A message? Over her time in the police, Imogen had realised that when it came to murder, there weren’t that many possible motives; figuring out who these people were was key to finding out why this had happened to them.

Chapter Eight

Imogen handed Adrian a coffee she had picked up on the way over. He hadn’t left the hospital all night; he had barely slept since she had been discovered yesterday. He was a mess.

She looked at the woman. She could see instantly why Adrian was so affected by this case. Who wouldn’t be? The cuts and bruises across the woman’s face looked angry against her pale, shiny porcelain skin. Imogen could see the weave line of the woman’s hair extensions – not cheap ones, either. The nails she had left were acrylics, a French manicure. Her clothes were folded on the chair by the bed – Stella McCartney jeans that run at three hundred quid a go. Imogen wondered how much they would be worth now they had been cut into several pieces. There was also a gold ring, a wedding band, sitting on the bedside table. Presumably, it was hers. Whoever this lady was, she wasn’t destitute and yet still no one had reported her missing.

‘Hey,’ Adrian said, standing and stretching out of his hunched seated slumber.

Imogen waved Adrian over to the corner of the room, as far away from the woman as they could get without actually leaving the room.

‘We found another body in the water, about a mile from where you found the woman. Male, similar age – dead, though; much worse injuries than her. They must be connected. I’m going to have to ask her about it,’ she said quietly.

‘Why didn’t you call and tell me?’

‘I thought it would be better in person. DCI Kapoor wanted me to question her, so I thought it best just to tell you when I got here.’

The truth was, she wanted to check on Adrian. He had refused to leave until the woman had woken. Well, she was awake now.

‘Maybe he will have some ID on him. We still don’t know her name; she said she doesn’t remember.’

‘Do you believe her?’

‘I don’t know what I think, to be honest. I don’t know why she would lie. Do we know anything else about the body?’

‘No, but hopefully the pathologist will be able to tell us more. It’s possible he is your woman’s boyfriend but we don’t know that either. The DCI wants us back at the station to brief us after we have spoken to her.’

‘I don’t want to leave her.’

‘What did the doctor say?’

‘Dr Hadley said she is going to be fine – sore for a while, but fine. She was beaten quite badly, possibly with the intention of killing her. Now that we have found the other body, that seems quite likely. Whoever did this, I get the feeling it was personal. It must have been someone who had something against her, or him. She still had valuables on her so robbery wasn’t the end goal, and according to the doctor, neither was sexual assault. Most of the damage to her was on the surface, no internal injuries. I guess we need to figure out if they were both the target or if it’s something that’s only connected to one of them.’

‘It’s already been on the news that she’s in hospital,’ Imogen said.

It was almost impossible to keep a lid on any kind of news these days.

‘Do you think she could still be in danger?’ Adrian asked.

‘I don’t think we can know anything for sure at this point. That could be why she isn’t telling us her name. We need to speak to her.’

‘She woke briefly but she hasn’t said much about anything. It’s entirely possible she really doesn’t remember what happened, given the state of her and the injuries she sustained.’

‘Or she doesn’t want us to know what happened. Maybe she is still afraid. Whoever did this is still out there,’ Imogen said.

The truth was they could speculate all they wanted at this point. Until she gave them information, or they managed to identify the man whose body they found, they might as well just be pissing in the wind. Imogen could already see how invested Adrian was; he wasn’t about to walk away from this case. Imogen shuddered involuntarily, a chill at the nape of her neck. She had a bad feeling about this woman, whoever she was. Adrian was already well and truly hooked.

Chapter Nine

They found him. They think I am asleep, but I hear them whispering. Their words drift in and out of my head as they pass my bed. That’s what happens when I try to get away, people get hurt. He warns me and yet still I persist.

When will I ever learn?

I am both glad and disturbed that I can’t remember what happened that night. I have the tiniest ember of hope left. If he thinks I am dead, then there is still a chance that I can get far enough away before the truth comes out.

Chapter Ten

In the briefing room, Adrian had his phone on the table, waiting for Dr Hadley to call and update him on the condition of their Jane Doe. She had promised to message when the woman woke again. While violent attacks were on the rise by almost twenty per cent in the last year across the country owing to a multitude of factors, including government cuts and a mounting feeling of general hopelessness among the populace, this was something else. This was personal.

He thought about the body they found. He should have checked the area to see if there was anyone else. He didn’t even think to do that. Maybe he could have saved that man if he had just walked a little further downriver. What if the man heard him? What if he tried to call out? Adrian waited for any small piece of information that would release him from the weight of his guilt.

DCI Mira Kapoor walked into the briefing room with DI Walsh and nodded at Adrian before putting her mug down on the desk. Gary Tunney followed closely behind and opened his laptop. Gary was the district forensic computer analyst and all-round genius; they relied on him for a lot and he seemed more than happy to oblige. He was one of those people who was constantly thirsting for knowledge, always doing a course of some kind or other. At present, Gary was doing a part-time degree in forensic psychology. Adrian was a little in awe of Gary’s capacity to learn things.

‘First, great job, DS Miles. That must have been a very upsetting situation and I’m very proud of the way you dealt with it. You’re a credit to the station.’

Adrian was slightly taken aback by this comment, as it wasn’t like Kapoor to heap the praise on quite so thickly. Just take the compliment, he thought.

‘Thank you, Ma’am.’

‘Also, thank you for staying with the Jane Doe at the hospital last night. Now, we don’t have an ID on the male victim, is that correct?’

‘Nothing as yet,’ Imogen said.

‘And she still hasn’t said who she is?’ DCI Kapoor added.

Adrian looked at the DCI and shook his head.

‘Has anyone been reported missing?’ she asked.

‘Not in the last week,’ Gary said.

‘Well, they came from somewhere and so someone is missing them. When the woman spoke to you, did you notice an accent? Was she British?’

‘I believe so. She hasn’t said much, but it seemed to be an English accent.’

‘Gary, do you have anything?’ the DCI said.

‘I haven’t managed to find anything through the CCTV; there’s not a whole lot of cameras down that way,’ Gary said sheepishly.

Adrian watched and waited as DCI Kapoor sucked in a breath. It was always tough when there were no leads. All they could do was hope that once the crime scene was processed and the autopsy had been carried out, they would have more to go on. It wasn’t a given. Some investigations required a little more investigating than others.

‘Do we know the time of the death of our John Doe? Was he alive when I got her out of the water?’ Adrian asked.

‘I spoke to Karen Bell. She was heading the forensic team down there and she said he had been dead for more than twenty-four hours. Likely, he died some time before you found her on the Saturday morning. You couldn’t have saved him,’ Imogen said.

Adrian could see she wanted to reach out across the table to reassure him, but with all the prying eyes, she settled for giving him a comforting look. He wondered if anyone noticed these affectionate glances between them. It was mostly her decision to keep the relationship a secret, though he was happy to go along with it for now, until they were comfortable enough to go public.

‘There was nothing you could have done,’ Walsh added, which was uncharacteristically comforting.

Adrian could tell Walsh’s opinion of him was, at best, on the fence.

‘So, we have nothing? Nothing at all?’ DCI Kapoor said with a prominent tone of disappointment in them.

‘I can check with other constabularies re MisPers. It’s possible whoever they were that they were just visiting the city,’ Adrian said.

‘Is that likely? That would make this an opportunist attack and it certainly doesn’t feel that way,’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘It’s got to be worth checking. I don’t mind doing it,’ Adrian said.

‘Thank you, Adrian, that would be great,’ DCI Kapoor said. ‘The preliminary report from the pathologist records that he died from multiple blows to the head. Definitely deliberate, definitely with the intent of killing the young man. He will have a more detailed report for us in a few days.’

Gary raised his hand. ‘I know someone at the university who may be able to help. He’s the professor of forensic anthropology and archaeology on the Streatham Campus.’

‘How is an archaeologist going to help us?’ Adrian said.

‘He does skull reconstruction and can get a good likeness of John Doe for us to work from. He is superfast. I don’t have any decent facial reconstruction software here and if we send it off to London or one of the other constabularies with the program, it’s likely to take a week minimum because of backlog. It’s actually two separate programs run by two different people.’

‘Why don’t we have this software? Can’t you run it?’ DCI Kapoor asked.

‘I can run it. It is, however, several grand. I put in for it a couple of years back but was denied owing to budget constraints. My guy at the uni is a fast worker and he would prioritise it; he lives for this kind of thing.’

‘OK, brilliant. Has he worked with us before? Is that how you know him?’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘No. He’s in my guild. He’s the Healer.’

‘Your guild?’

‘Warcraft. It’s a computer game thing. We have a local guild and we meet up occasionally. Anyway, he is kind of a big deal. In the real world, I mean, but also in the game.’

Denise Ferguson, the duty sergeant, knocked on the door of the briefing room and walked in with a piece of paper, which she handed to Gary. When Denise looked up, her eyes widened at Adrian and she had a smirk on her face.

‘This was just on the local news Twitter feed.’

Gary put a video up on the big screen. Bloody mobile phones. Adrian knew before it even started what it was going to be. He watched himself pulling Jane Doe from the bushes and then carrying her to safety on the bank, to the soundtrack of gasps from both the women in the video and his colleagues in the room, followed by a round of applause when it ended on a freeze-frame of him walking towards the camera. He blushed.

‘I see they cut out the bit where I asked her not to share this with anyone until we identified the woman,’ Adrian said.

‘Well, DS Miles, I think you are probably going to have a few questions to answer as soon as the press learn your name. It’s always great to have some good PR for a change and so it would be nice if you would issue a statement, even nicer if we had any good news with regard to Jane Doe’s progress.’

‘Do I have to?’ Adrian said.

‘It’s better if you do, then it’s over and you can get on with things. Trust me, I learned this lesson a long time ago. If you cooperate then you control what information they get hold of. They are going to talk about you anyway,’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘Are we going to give them a picture of the woman’s face? Like a proper one. You can’t see who she is in this video. It might help us to identify her,’ Adrian said.

‘I think we should get an ID on the man first. Until we know the circumstances of this attack then I don’t want to risk it. She could still be in danger and I don’t want to advertise her location at the moment. It’s annoying that this video is out there; it makes our job a little harder by forcing us to deal with the bloody newspapers,’ Kapoor said. ‘Let’s just give the press a statement for now.’

‘Fine,’ Adrian said.

‘I’ll set something up. You never know, maybe someone saw something and we might even get a lead out of this. You’re unusually quiet, DS Grey,’ Kapoor added.

‘Sorry, Ma’am. I can give Gary a hand checking out missing persons in other constabularies,’ Imogen said.

‘OK, then. When you’re done, could you check with the pathologist for any updates on the autopsy of John Doe?’

‘Of course.’

The DCI picked up her mug and left the room. Gary put the video on again.

‘Look at those strong arms and that pretty face. The press are going to love you, don’t you think, Grey?’

‘Irresistible,’ she said flatly, standing and turning to Gary. ‘I’ll meet you in your office so we can go through the missing persons files.’

Adrian couldn’t tell if she was upset. What could she possibly be annoyed with him about? Gary took the hint by shutting his laptop and leaving.

‘Is everything all right?’ Adrian asked as they left the room.

‘You tell me.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m just concerned that you are too emotionally involved in this case already. That must have been tough, finding her, pulling her out of the river like that.’ Imogen’s voice softened.

‘It’s not something I particularly want to experience again. It was horrible.’

‘Do you think maybe you should go and see the counsellor? Might be good to talk it through properly.’

‘No, thanks. I just want to find out what happened.’

‘I know. We will.’

‘I genuinely thought she was dead. How could anyone do this?’

‘If there is one thing we have learned, it’s that people are capable of anything. Look, I know you found her and that you’re invested in this case, but I really have a bad feeling about this whole thing. I can’t explain it, Adrian, and you know I am not superstitious or anything, but I want you to promise me you try and stay level-headed about it.’

‘It’s sweet of you to worry, but I am fine. Let’s just find out who Jane and John Doe are, then we can figure out who did this to them. I’m not some ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Have a little faith in me.’ Adrian squeezed Imogen’s hand.

They were at work and had promised to keep their relationship out of the office as they knew the DCI didn’t really approve and it could affect the way the DCI treated them. Neither one of them had a particularly stellar reputation for following the rules and so they needed to be careful not to piss the boss off. Adrian had promised himself that he would stop walking that line between what he was obligated to do and what he thought he should do. The law existed so people like him didn’t get to decide other people’s fate, he needed to remember that.

Chapter Eleven

It was amazing how much the woman’s appearance had improved since she had come in just a few days ago. She wouldn’t be winning any beauty competitions just yet, but the swelling on her face was almost gone, and she was sitting upright in the bed when Adrian and Imogen arrived at the hospital. But her face was still a patchwork of pinks and purples.

Imogen noticed the way the woman smiled at Adrian. She wasn’t threatened by every female who spoke to Adrian, but she had come to realise he was more naive than she had first thought. He didn’t seem to notice when he was being manipulated by a woman, or even flirted with, which was refreshing. Probably because he didn’t have a manipulative bone in his body.

Maybe he deserved more credit than she was giving him, but she was concerned that someone might take advantage of his good nature. This woman was obviously just expressing her gratitude again and yet there was still something about her that Imogen had a problem with. She was off in some way.

They had to tell her about the body of the man, they had to ask her who he was, and Imogen had a feeling they weren’t going to get the truth. But they at least had to try.

‘Hello. I am DS Imogen Grey. I need to talk to you about something.’

‘OK,’ the woman said, sucking in a breath, bracing herself for the conversation.

‘There’s no easy way to say this. We found the body of a young man near where DS Miles found you. We are in the process of identifying him. Do you know who he was?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t,’ she said too quickly, reaching for her glass of water.

She gulped it down. She was clearly trying to obscure her face for a moment, just enough to compose herself. It was obvious the question wasn’t a complete surprise to her.

What had happened to her? Why wouldn’t she tell them? Imogen didn’t have a medical degree, or in fact any degree at all, but she felt sure this woman was lying about not remembering. Why wouldn’t she want them to know who she was? Or who the man she was with was? Could Adrian see past what was happening to her? Could he see she was lying to them? Imogen wasn’t sure.

‘So, you have no recollection of him? Of what happened?’ Imogen said.

‘I’m sorry, I wish I did,’ she said. ‘Was it quick? When he died, was it quick?’

‘We don’t know yet. He sustained some very serious injuries,’ Adrian said.

‘I’m really tired. I would like to be alone, if it’s all the same to you. I really can’t tell you anything useful.’

Can’t? Or won’t? Imogen thought.

‘We’ll be back again if we learn anything about your situation. Do you have any idea as to why no one would have reported you missing?’ Imogen asked.

‘None, I’m sorry.’ Their Jane Doe lay back and folded her arms, closing her eyes.

‘It’s highly unusual,’ Imogen said, hoping to catch the woman’s eye. She wanted her to know she was on to her, in case there was anything to be on to.

But Jane Doe wasn’t going to say anything that might give an indication as to who she was, that much was clear. They were wasting their time talking to her. They could come back when they had more information on the body – maybe then they would find something they could press her with. They could run a DNA sample on the dead body, something they couldn’t do to Jane Doe without her permission, which she hadn’t granted. At this time, she was an obstruction to finding the truth and they had to treat her as such. After the forensic anthropologist had reconstructed the man’s face, they would come back and question her further.

‘If you need anything, get the nurse to call me,’ Adrian said.

‘Thank you, Adrian. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,’ the woman said, reaching over and taking Adrian by the hand.

Imogen had to walk away; she didn’t like thinking the things she was thinking. This woman was vulnerable and needed both their protection and their help. So why did Imogen feel like they were being sucked into some big black hole of a mess? She wouldn’t ignore her instincts. Every time she had in the past, she had kicked herself for not listening to that little voice inside her head that told her something was wrong. Right now, that little voice was screaming.

Chapter Twelve

They asked me who he was. I couldn’t tell them; they can’t find out who I am. If they do, then he will find out I am here.

I heard the nurse talking about how there is a video online of the detective pulling me out of the water. I can no longer disappear. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he was done with me and wanted me dead.

Who am I kidding?

Chapter Thirteen

Dr Forrester was placing an eyeball in the socket of a plaster mould of a skull when Adrian and Imogen entered his office on the Streatham Campus of Exeter University. The office was a cornucopia of dusty old books and curios, the way you imagine a professor’s office to look. There were several clay skulls at various stages of development around the room. Adrian had seen plenty of dramatisations of this kind of thing on the TV, but it was fascinating to see in person.

Gary stood up excitedly as they approached. ‘Imogen, Adrian, this is Dr Carl Forrester.’

Dr Forrester nodded hello to them. ‘I would shake your hands, but I’m a bit mucky at present.’

‘The doctor is reconstructing our John Doe’s face,’ Gary said.

‘Already?’ Imogen asked.

‘What is it you’re doing? How do you do that? How do you know what his eyes were like?’

Adrian fired a series of questions at the professor. This kind of thing seemed like magic to Adrian and yet he had seen the results with his own eyes before. It worked. What was it they said? Magic was just science we don’t understand yet, which, in Adrian’s case, was almost all science.

‘I spoke to your pathologist last night and she sent me photos and measurements. From the body, I would say that we are looking at a Caucasian male in his late twenties. He has brown hair and brown eyes, and would have stood around five foot eleven, which we know because the pathologist told us; that’s not information we normally have when reconstructing.’

‘How did you get the skull so quickly? Is pathology done with it?’ Adrian asked.

‘We did an MRI of the head and then used a program to create a 3D image of the skull from the source material. We were then able to print a 3D replica of it, so we didn’t need the actual skull,’ Gary said excitedly.

‘When that was ready, I began to attach the markers and the eyeballs. Next, I will start to build muscle up to the marker lines,’ Dr Forrester said.

‘How do you know where the marker lines are?’ Adrian said.

‘There’s a lot of measuring and maths involved, plus decades of research and other people’s work to pull from. We measure the skull and construct markers of varying depths, which we place in specific points on the skull that will in turn guide us when creating the flesh and muscles out of clay.

‘We already have more to work on than usual, because the actual skull is still … well, fleshy. The eyeball that I have just inserted is on a bed of clay to bring it to the right depth, which is where the flat part of the front of the eye is flush with the socket around it. Next, I will be adding clay to the chin and jaw. Then I fill the spaces in between the markers and smooth it all out until we have a face. You are welcome to stay and watch.’

‘Thanks, Doc,’ Adrian said. ‘When do you think he will be ready?’

‘Give me ’til the end of the day. If I work through, I should have it done.’

Adrian and Imogen stood and watched as Dr Forrester rolled the clay carefully into tiny balls and placed each one in between the markers on the face – small foam tubes of varying lengths. He started on the jawbone, filling the space slowly with the small lumps of clay until they reached the required height, then he smoothed it over until you could barely see the markers anymore.

Adrian would have loved to stay and watch the man work all day, but they had to go and speak to the woman again. All this could be completely unnecessary. She might change her mind and give them the name of the man whose body they found floating in the River Exe. Even as he thought it to himself, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Whoever had hurt the woman had scared her enough to keep her mouth shut. Nothing they could say would change that. They had to keep trying, though. Someone was missing this man and they deserved to know the truth.

Chapter Fourteen

They were soon back at the hospital. Imogen had grown to hate this place: the smell, the noise, everything about it set her on edge. She had been here too many times already, not only with her own injuries, but also visiting Adrian, victims, witnesses. She had never been to hospital for a happy occasion. She didn’t have many friends, certainly none who were interested in having babies, and given her history, she wasn’t sure she would be that happy in that situation, anyway.

The injuries that Imogen had sustained in a previous case made the likelihood of her being able to have a child unlikely. She still thumbed at the scar that ran the length of her torso, given to her by a suspect of that case. The doctors at the time hadn’t completely ruled out having children, but she got the feeling they were just trying to spare her feelings. It wasn’t something she was preoccupied with at the moment, as she wasn’t ready to have kids of her own, but she knew that there might come a time when she might feel differently.

She had never talked about it with Adrian, nor any of her previous boyfriends, either. Adrian had a son, but Adrian was still young enough to have more children, younger than a lot of first-time parents these days. Hospitals made her think about these things and that was annoying; the rest of the time it barely crossed her mind.

They walked towards the ward Jane Doe was on and already could feel tension as people bustled about. Even from this distance they could see the uniformed officer they had left with her now walking in and out of rooms, looking for something or someone. They didn’t even need to hear it before they broke out into a run – their Jane Doe was missing.

‘What the hell happened?’ Imogen called, startling the young PC.

He stood bolt upright and she saw him fumbling for words.

‘Where is she?’ Adrian said.

‘I really needed the loo and I told her I would be back in five minutes. When I got back, her bed was empty,’ the PC said nervously.

‘When exactly did this happen?’ Adrian asked.

‘About twenty minutes ago,’ the PC said sheepishly.

‘You’ve called this in, right?’ Imogen snapped.

‘I thought I would be able to find her.’

‘Have you told hospital security?’ Imogen said.

‘I was just about to,’ PC Milbourne replied.

‘Twenty minutes? She could be anywhere by now.’

‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Call it in. We’ll see if anyone saw her leave,’ Imogen said to the PC, whose face was the colour of a raspberry.

She had wanted to add a few expletives, but time was of the essence and, realistically, aside from making her feel better momentarily, it would be completely pointless. The young man looked distraught enough as it was; he had learned a lesson. DCI Kapoor would have a few words for him, anyway.

‘Maybe she didn’t leave of her own accord. I’ll get them to pull up the CCTV and see if anyone was with her. Maybe whoever did that to her found her after that sodding footage got out,’ Adrian said.

‘Hey, this isn’t your fault,’ Imogen said, knowing that Adrian would already be blaming himself for allowing the woman at the riverbank to film him. ‘She probably just left on her own. Let’s find out what happened before we freak out.’

‘I’ll go check with security, you go check the main entrance,’ Adrian said to her and rushed off.

Imogen peered into rooms as she walked briskly towards the main entrance to the hospital. The buses ran quite frequently past the hospital and so she could be on a bus, or she could have walked into the residential area. Given that they knew nothing about her, they had no idea where to look.

It wasn’t just about her, either. They had a body they needed to identify and she was the closest thing they had to a witness. Imogen accepted that the woman had probably lied about not remembering anything and if she did, then she knew the who and perhaps the why. There was no reasonable explanation for her to run away if she genuinely couldn’t remember anything about her situation. Was she afraid of getting in trouble with the police? Was she afraid of a person? Was the man who died her husband? So many more questions …

Imogen knew before she got to the exit that she wouldn’t see the woman, that there would be no way to find her. This case was feeling like one door slamming in her face after another. She pulled her phone out and called Gary to check for any CCTV of the hospital and surrounding neighbourhoods. He could put someone on it while they searched the area. She should get him to make that young PC who was supposed to be watching the woman to do it as punishment, but she wouldn’t trust him not to miss anything.

‘I heard,’ Gary said as he answered the phone. ‘The DCI has already asked me to look for CCTV and she has dispatched a couple of cars to look for Jane Doe. DI Walsh is also on his way to the hospital to speak to PC Milbourne.’

‘We are going to look here as well. Adrian has alerted hospital security in case she is still in the building, but she’s had plenty of time to get away. He said twenty minutes, but I reckon we can add at least another ten minutes to that.’

‘There are cameras on the exits to the hospital, so I should be able to get an exact time for you soon enough. I’ve got the head of hospital security on the other line. I’ll text you when I know,’ Gary said before ringing off.

Imogen reached the exit and went outside. She surveyed the surrounding area, but it was desolate. The bus stop was empty and since they had banned smokers from congregating outside the main entrance, there wasn’t anyone to ask. Why would the woman run? Did she run?

Since the video had hit the internet, they couldn’t be sure at this point that whoever had hurt her the first time hadn’t come back to finish the job. Staring at the car park wasn’t doing her any favours, so she went to find Adrian.

What if they couldn’t find the woman? Was she in danger? Was she dangerous? They had no idea. They had less now than they had this morning, significantly less. Maybe the DNA would come back on John Doe, but she didn’t want to admit to herself how unlikely that was.

Chapter Fifteen

Sitting in the incident room waiting for a reprimand felt a lot like being on detention. Imogen knew the DCI wasn’t going to be happy, but Adrian was more stressed about the missing woman than worried about what the DCI was going to say. She knew he felt personally responsible because he left her bedside and Imogen felt partially responsible for making him do that.

The truth was, no one was to blame except the woman herself. She wasn’t under arrest but just saw an opportunity to leave and left. There were obviously too many questions that she didn’t want to answer. No one could know what she had been through – only she knew that. It was pointless being annoyed with her; she was the victim in this. One of the victims, anyway.

DCI Kapoor walked in and folded her arms.

‘I’ve just spoken with PC Milbourne and he said she gave no indication that she was going anywhere. One second she was there and when he looked again, she was gone. It’s happened now, anyway, so we need to make sure the newspapers don’t find out that we lost her.

‘The Echo have been asking for an interview with you, DS Miles. I said you would give them a call today, so do that before you go home. The last thing we need is them poking around the hospital. Remember: careful, measured answers. Reporters are always looking for an angle, that’s their job. Your job is to make sure they don’t get it.’

‘What if they ask me how she’s doing?’

‘Say she’s up and walking about. You wouldn’t be lying,’ Imogen said.

‘Please, someone tell me we have something else? Any new information on John Doe?’ Kapoor asked.

‘No match on his DNA and his fingerprints aren’t on file with us, either. Dr Forrester will send a photo over when he is done. I have compiled photos of all current male MisPers within a hundred-mile radius. We can expand further if that doesn’t pan out.’

‘How many are there?’ Imogen asked.

‘Too many,’ Gary said.

A brief silence descended over the room as Gary’s words hit home. A person goes missing every ninety seconds in the UK, almost two hundred thousand are reported missing a year. The amount of people who return to their families or home are few and far between. Most families never got any closure, left to assume the worst for ever.

‘Adrian, you go with Gary and see if, together, you can rule out some of those missing people until you get the reconstruction of John Doe’s face.’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Adrian said, shooting a glance at Imogen as he left the room.

Separation anxiety, she thought.

‘Imogen, I would like you to speak to Dr Hadley who was treating Jane Doe. She is in the liaison room; she was called in for something else, but I thought it would be good if you could have a little chat while she’s here. She spent some time with the patient and may have some information that doesn’t violate the patient’s confidentiality. Maybe she mentioned a person or a place. Also, she might know if Jane Doe made any calls or if anyone suspicious in general was hanging around the hospital.’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Imogen said.

‘Go on, then,’ DCI Kapoor said, shooing Imogen out of the office.

Imogen walked towards the liaison room to speak to the doctor, hoping she could give them a lead of some kind. At the moment, they were flying blind.

Chapter Sixteen

Someone had already given Dr Hadley a drink when Imogen arrived in the liaison room. She was occasionally the on-call doctor for the station and so she was friendly with many of the staff. Dr Hadley had even been out on a date with Adrian once, which Imogen couldn’t help but remember every time she saw her. It wasn’t jealousy, more an acknowledgment of the fact, which her brain liked to jab her with.

‘Dr Hadley,’ Imogen said.

‘DS Grey. Mira, DCI Kapoor, said you wanted to speak to me about the patient.’

‘Yes. Is there anything you can tell us about her that may help us locate her? I am sure you are aware that we found the body of a man near to where she was found. Down on the riverbank.’

‘Yes. And I saw the video of Adrian pulling her out of the river online.’

‘Do you have any information?’ Imogen said, ignoring her comment about Adrian.

If she told herself she wasn’t jealous enough times then maybe she would believe it.

‘I can tell you that she was terrified. She was calm and even-tempered when other people were around, but when she was alone, she was quite distraught. I walked in on her and saw her sobbing more than once. I got the feeling she was in some kind of untenable situation, as though a difficult decision needed to be made. She seemed to be unsure of what she should do.’

‘Well, she had been through a terrible ordeal.’

‘Yes, of course, but she was so determined to keep it hidden, that’s what concerned me. She didn’t ask for advice, or help. I’ve seen this kind of thing before.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Those injuries that she sustained, they weren’t the first. Not by a long shot. There was evidence of injuries and breaks going back a long time. Without saying too much, I think you are looking for a very vulnerable individual.’

‘Did she use the phones at all? Did you see anyone else hanging around the hospital? Did you see her speaking to anyone who wasn’t staff?’

Imogen fired the questions without giving Hadley the opportunity to respond. Hadley was so guarded with her responses and Imogen didn’t have all day.

‘She was very jumpy whenever someone walked into the room, expecting someone to come for her, I think. I don’t think she is running from the law, she is running from someone else. Pure speculation, of course, but I work predominantly with women who are either sexually assaulted or in domestic abuse situations. The marks I saw on her body are consistent with those I have seen on women who are in abusive relationships. As she didn’t tell me directly and as this is conjecture on my part, I don’t feel like I am breaking confidentiality in this instance.’

‘Thank you, Doctor. We’ll contact you if we need to speak to you again.’

Imogen showed Dr Hadley out of the liaison room and walked back to her desk. Finding Jane Doe seemed more pressing than ever.

Chapter Seventeen

Adrian clicked through all the images Gary had compiled. As they had barely any information on John Doe, he could have been reported missing at any point from anywhere. The things they knew were that he had naturally brown hair and brown eyes, and was no younger than twenty and no older than forty. He was five foot eleven and Caucasian. Anyone who didn’t fit those criteria was immediately removed from the list.

‘Dr Forrester said he would have something for us in less than half an hour,’ Gary said as he returned to the room with two hot coffees from the secret coffee machine in his office.

‘I’m down to under three hundred now, much better than what we started with,’ Adrian said. ‘I feel like we should be investigating all of these, anyway.’

‘It’s definitely depressing.’

‘I don’t know what we’ll do if he’s not one of these men. Back to CCTV from the quayside, I guess, see if there is anything. There must be something we are missing.’

Adrian looked through the faces one more time, thinking about the faces he had already discarded. Who was going to look for them? The idea that every single one of those people had someone who cared about them enough to notice they were gone, to report them missing, was distressing. Growing up with an addict for a father meant Adrian was no stranger to living with someone who was in and out of your life. Charlie Miles came and went as he pleased, and they never reported him missing. Maybe it was the same for some of these people.

He couldn’t get bogged down in what their stories might be, though. They might not all be sad stories. The truth was, he didn’t know and it was no use speculating; he couldn’t think about them right now. They weren’t all dead – some were probably homeless, some may have just felt suffocated in their lives and needed a new start elsewhere. It was common for people to disappear after a bad break-up. Sometimes the police would track them down and the missing person wouldn’t want to be found; it was their right to leave in the first place. Occasionally, they were fleeing abusive situations.

Adrian couldn’t imagine that, just dropping everything and moving away, but then he had his son, Tom, to think about, so he was tethered. Even when things had got really rough with his ex – Tom’s mum, Andrea – Adrian wouldn’t have thought about leaving; it didn’t even occur to him.

A notification sounded on Gary’s personal laptop and he rushed back over to the seat next to Adrian with it under his arm. Within seconds, Gary had the image on the screen of the reconstructed face.

The man looked quite young. He had the slender, angular face of a man under thirty. His cheekbones were prominent and he had a fairly square jaw. He didn’t quite have superhero looks, but there was something so everyday and inoffensive about him. Even Adrian could see that he was a decent-looking guy, the right side of average, symmetrical in all the right places.

Adrian started at the beginning of the MisPers list again. It was easy to see which faces didn’t belong to the man in the clay reconstruction. As he looked through, he tried to commit each face to memory so that if he ever saw them in the street, he would be able to remove them from the list. He knew he wouldn’t remember, though. Each face was replaced immediately with a new one before he really had a chance to study it. They went through the faces over and over again, whittling them down further and further each time until they had just seventeen faces left.

Some of the photos supplied by the people who had filed the report had been less than clear, but Adrian found himself drawn to one particular image. The man was smiling in the photograph, standing on a jetty overlooking one of the major lakes in the Lake District. He had his arms outstretched and was wearing an orange beanie. Simon Glover.

Simon Glover was reported missing from Charmouth in Dorset just a week earlier by his sister, Fiona Merton. The more Adrian compared the image of Simon to the clay model, the more he was convinced they were the same person.

‘It’s this guy. Simon Glover. Can we get any better images of him?’

‘He’s probably got some form of social media profile; most people have. I’ll look him up,’ Gary said as he opened various tabs and typed into each one at a speed that seemed inhuman to Adrian.

‘Well?’

‘This is him, I think.’ Gary said, spinning the screen towards Adrian.

A Facebook profile, current job listed as working in Weymouth. It was him, though; a more serious picture of his face, but it was uncanny how much he looked like the clay sculpture. It’s not as if Adrian didn’t believe in the science of it, but this confirmed it in a way that couldn’t have been done any other way. He could see it with his own eyes. Simon Glover was John Doe.

‘Gary, I could kiss you.’

‘I’m sorry, mate, I’m taken.’

‘Talking of which, is he married? Is our Jane Doe his wife?’ Adrian said, remembering the wedding ring Jane Doe was wearing.

‘His relationship status on this is listed as single.’

‘So, whoever Jane Doe was, she wasn’t Simon Glover’s wife. What was her connection to him, then? How did they end up in the river together? Are there any pictures of Jane Doe on his profile?’

‘In all of his public photos he’s alone. We can put in a request to gain access to his account, but Facebook are notoriously slow for granting these requests, so I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

‘Do you have an address for his sister? I’m going to grab Imogen then we can head on over there.’

‘I’ll send all the details to your phone.’

Adrian rushed out of the room. Finally, a break in the case. It was horrible to think of unclaimed victims, that somewhere out there their unsuspecting family members were just carrying on with their lives. Simon Glover was the first real name they had. Even though Adrian wasn’t relishing telling his sister the news of her brother’s passing, it was worse when you couldn’t find the family to notify them. Now that they had somewhere to start, it was only a matter of time before they got the whole picture, a matter of time before they found the woman again and made sure she was safe.

Chapter Eighteen

Fiona Merton lived in a modest bungalow at the top end of a shallow hill in Bridport, Dorset. The low-level buildings allowed the vista of the patchwork hills behind them to be seen in all directions, broken only by the square orange roofs peppered in between. She opened the door as Imogen and Adrian walked up the driveway; they obviously looked like police.

‘Are you here about my brother?’ she said, arms folded as though cold, even though the summer heat was starting to build.

‘I’m DS Imogen Grey and this is my colleague, DS Adrian Miles.’

‘Is this about Simon?’

‘Can we come in?’ Imogen asked.

Fiona Merton walked back inside the house, leaving the door open for them to follow. Inside, it felt like a home that belonged to a much older woman. The curtains were mustard-and-terracotta stripes, very dated, and they looked like they had been there as long as the house. The sofas were large and almost cartoonlike, with a floral chintz in autumnal colours. Fiona Merton was no older than thirty and so Imogen assumed that she must have inherited the property.

‘Well? Where is he? Have you found him?’

‘I’m going to show you a photograph,’ Adrian said, pulling out his phone. ‘I want you to prepare yourself.’

‘Prepare myself for what?’ she said, clutching herself even tighter.

‘We recovered the body of a male who matches your brother’s description and we have reconstructed an image of his face to show you. Maybe you can identify him from it.’

‘Reconstructed? What was wrong with his face?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind taking a look at this. Are you ready?’ Adrian said, avoiding the question.

Fiona nodded and Adrian showed her the clay reconstruction. She looked confused at first, but then her face settled and the tears came.

‘Yes, that’s him, that’s Simon. He’s dead? What happened?’ Fiona said, crying but still somehow composed, cold even.

‘Was Simon in a relationship?’ Imogen said.

‘No. He works a lot; doesn’t have time for a relationship. His time’s divided mostly between the construction site and an evening class. Didn’t want to work on a building site for ever.’

‘What was he studying?’

‘He wanted to be a teacher. He’s been studying English literature so he can teach English in secondary school. He was a bit of a romantic.’ Fiona struggled to speak, her breath shortening as the impact of the situation hit her.

Imogen put her hand on her shoulder to try to impart some kind of empathy.

‘Do you recognise this woman at all?’ Adrian said, showing Fiona a picture of their Jane Doe.

She shook her head.

‘We’re sorry for your loss,’ Imogen said as Fiona looked up at her. What else was there to say?

‘How did it happen?’ Fiona said, wiping her cheeks, clearly unaccustomed to vulnerability.

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Adrian said. ‘We recovered him from a river last Sunday morning.’

‘What was he doing in the river?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t know that yet,’ Adrian said.

‘Did he drown? He was a really good swimmer. He’s the only family I have … had left,’ she sobbed.

‘We are investigating what happened to Simon. At this point, we don’t believe he died of natural causes. If possible, would you be willing to give us a DNA sample so that we can confirm the person we have is in fact your brother?’

‘Why can’t I see him? Why won’t you answer my questions? Where did you say you found him?’

‘We really don’t know anything yet. The body was recovered from the River Exe in Exeter.’

‘What was he doing there? You don’t think he died of natural causes. So, you think he was murdered?’

‘It seems your brother sustained some serious injuries before he died, probably from a physical assault.’

‘Who would do that to him? Everyone liked Simon; he was a good man. Honestly, you would be hard pushed to find anyone who had a bad word to say against him.’

‘We don’t know who yet, but we will find out. Did your brother have a mobile phone?’ Adrian asked.

‘Of course he did. What kind of question is that? Who doesn’t have a bloody mobile phone these days?’

‘It would have been on him?’ Imogen said.

‘More than likely.’

‘Your brother lived in Higher Sea Lane in Charmouth, correct? Do you have spare keys for his property?’ Adrian said.

‘Yes, I’ll get them for you.’

She stood and walked over to a sideboard, where she opened the drawer and pulled out some keys, which she held in her hands tightly. Imogen could see the woman’s knuckles whiten as she squeezed.

‘I was close with my brother; he came here every week for Sunday dinner. When he didn’t turn up last week, I knew something was wrong. He was secretive and I know there was a lot he never told me about himself, but he wasn’t a bad person. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt him.’

‘Can you think of any reason your brother would be in Exeter?’ Imogen said.

‘He used to work there until about six months ago.’

‘Where does he work now?’ Imogen said.

‘He’s an Assistant Site Manager for the Sigma construction company. He’s working on a flat development on the front in Weymouth.’

‘Does he have any close friends we can talk to? Someone who might be able to shed some light on your brother’s activities?’ Imogen said.

‘He’s worked with a guy called Leon Quick for the last couple of years; Leon got him the job at Sigma after he left the last place.’

‘Thank you very much, Miss Merton. Again, we are sorry for your loss and we will let you know as soon as we have any information for you. Is there anyone you need us to call to come and be with you?’ Adrian said.

‘Thank you, DS Miles, I can call my neighbour, don’t worry,’ she said, arms folded as they walked to the door.

Chapter Nineteen

I gain entrance to the house by the patio door, which is always left unlocked. I go to the shower and wash the smell of hospital off me. I add make-up and put on a dress. Then I go into the kitchen and start dinner. He gets home and hangs his coat up. When he smells the food cooking, he’ll know I am back. The table is laid and there is a cup of tea waiting for him, his newspaper to the side of it. Everything is just the way he likes it.

He walks in and kisses me on the forehead. He tells me he knew I would be back before sitting at the table with his cup of tea and the paper. I tip the carrots into the pan of water and we both carry on as though we live a perfectly normal life.

Chapter Twenty

Imogen and Adrian walked into Simon Glover’s flat. It was a nice place looking out towards the horizon, probably quite pricey. But it was empty. Bed stripped, no electricals or soft furnishings, no sign of human habitation. The walls had been freshly painted, the doors and woodwork, too. It smelled clean, too, but not polish clean, bleach clean, ammonia clean, sterile and medical. Unnatural. It looked like it had just been built.

‘We should call this in before we look around,’ Imogen said.

‘Presumably, Fiona Merton has no idea that Glover’s flat is like this. She would have said something if he was moving out.’

‘Unless he didn’t tell her,’ Adrian said, shrugging.

He could be right; they already knew Glover kept secrets from his sister.

‘Where are all of his clothes? His things? Did he do this?’ Adrian said.

‘You think this is the crime scene?’

‘I would put money on it.’

‘If that’s the case, then this has been professionally cleaned, which is concerning,’ Imogen said.

‘Concerning, how?’

‘Who cleaned it? I’m going to assume there was some blood, which would correlate with Simon Glover’s murder having taken place here. And who painted this place? It’s not as if Glover was disposed of particularly carefully. But this level of work and attention to detail means that more than one person was involved. Cleaners, painters, movers.’

‘This seems highly organised. Is this something they have done before? Something they do regularly. Not to mention the distance from the original crime scene. We are at least an hour away from where the body was found.’

‘Maybe you do need to do a TV appeal for information. They love you at the moment.’ Imogen smiled, knowing Adrian hated being the centre of attention, but she loved to watch him squirm.

‘Seriously, though. If they have done this before then why was this job so sloppy? Why haven’t we been finding bodies in the river for years? Are they trying to send a message to someone else?’ Adrian said.

‘Sloppy, how?’

‘You know, body in the river, which is basically a trail of evidence. Not to mention the fact that they didn’t finish the woman off. Not quite professional, more confusing. I’m telling you, it’s a message. Judging by the way the woman behaved, I think she was probably the intended recipient of that message. She wasn’t beaten as badly. I reckon Glover was beaten as a lesson to her.’

‘You’ve been watching too much TV. People don’t do that in real life.’

‘Maybe not in your life. We’re missing something.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ Imogen said.

‘So, what now?’

‘Let’s go and see this co-worker of his and see if he can shed any light on what might have happened to Simon Glover.’

Adrian pulled out his phone and called Karen Bell, the lead crime scene investigator and recently promoted head of the forensics department. Imogen knew that she and Adrian alone wouldn’t find anything here – not a fingerprint, a strand of hair or a speck of blood that would confirm it as the crime scene. They needed to call the crime scene technicians in to work their magic. Even the cleanest rooms aren’t forensically clean.

They waited outside for someone to come and secure the scene; the smell inside was too chemical and overwhelming to stay there.

‘Do you think we will get any answers from the friend?’

‘I’m going to go with no. The secrecy and silence around this case is not only bizarre, it’s already pissing me off. There’s no reason to believe it’s going to get any easier.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Adrian said.

‘So far, we have a dead guy and a missing woman who would rather risk her life and her health than tell us what’s going on. My guess is this guy we are going to see now is going to be equally unhelpful. We just need to figure out why.’

Chapter Twenty-One

The summer temperatures were starting to kick in after another unpredictable cold spell and Dorset was a real suntrap. Leon Quick lived further away from the coast than Simon Glover, in a studio flat above the garage of his parents’ converted barn house. It was hot and stuffy inside and you could hear the clatter and clink of Leon’s father tinkering with something in the garage below.

The flat itself consisted of a bed and an armchair, plus a small side table and a TV, with built-in cupboards either side of the dated tiled fireplace. In one corner were three kitchen units with a microwave and a kettle. He also had a small fridge. There was nowhere to sit, really, so Imogen just folded her arms and waited for him to speak.

Leon looked shaken when his mother showed them upstairs and introduced them as police. Mrs Quick had given Leon a scathing look as she went back downstairs.

‘Leon Quick? I’m Detective Miles and this is my colleague, DS Grey. We are here to speak to you about your friend, Simon Glover.’

‘Is he OK? Did you find him?’ Leon said.

Imogen noted he was tense, his eyes darting around nervously as he spoke.

‘You knew he was missing?’ Imogen said.

‘Fiona called me and I’ve been calling him. He hasn’t been at work and everyone’s really concerned about him. I told the boss he had flu, but I knew something was up.’

‘What do you mean, you knew something was up?’ Imogen probed.

There was a twitchiness about Leon – she wondered if he was an addict of some kind.

‘He had been acting weird the last few weeks; he had a week off and when he didn’t come back I suspected something.’

‘Why would you suspect something? Was he in some kind of trouble?’ Adrian asked.

Leon’s anxiety had spiked when they had turned up and Imogen noticed it growing by the second. He started to chew on the skin around his thumb.

‘Just tell me what happened to him. He’s dead, isn’t he?’ he said.

Imogen could see he was shaking. Was it nerves or maybe withdrawal? For some reason, she suspected the former. Why was he so uneasy?

‘Why would you think that?’ Adrian said.

‘Why else would you be here?’

Imogen took a deep breath before speaking. ‘His sister has positively identified a body we recovered from the River Exe as Simon Glover.’

Leon shook his head and exhaled deeply before sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘What did they do to him?’

‘Tell us why you don’t seem surprised,’ Imogen said.

‘He told me. He told me this might happen the last time I spoke to him.’

‘He told you he might die?’ Imogen asked.

‘Yes. He gave me a letter to give to his sister in case anything happened. He gave me some other stuff to look after, as well. I guess you want it?’

‘Yes, please,’ Adrian said.

He got up and went to his cupboard before pulling out a small correspondence envelope and an A4 Jiffy bag. He handed the envelope to Imogen. She opened it and looked at the letter, though it felt wrong to read it. There were no explanations, just an expression of love from one sibling to another. It was a goodbye letter, but there was nothing sad about it. It certainly didn’t read like a suicide note. Leon then gave Adrian the Jiffy bag.

‘He asked me to hold onto this for him, too. Said he was going to swing by and pick it up on Friday. He was going away for a while.’

‘How do you guys know each other?’ Imogen asked.

‘We work together.’

‘Fiona Merton said you worked together at your last place of employment, too. Is that where you met?’

‘Yes,’ Leon said, shifting his gaze uncomfortably.

‘And where was that?’

‘Corrigan Construction. In Exeter,’ he said quietly, as though he didn’t want to say the words.

The name was familiar. Corrigan was one of the larger construction companies in the town and their vans were everywhere. They handled a lot of the redevelopments in the city and most of the roadworks. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the construction company was in Exeter. Is this a lead?

‘DS Grey,’ Adrian said.

Imogen looked at him. He was holding the contents of the Jiffy bag: two spanking new passports sealed in a vacuum-packed bag. Even without opening them, Imogen knew it was possible one of the passports was Simon’s and the other belonged to Jane Doe; perhaps they were running away together, and from something, judging by what happened to them.

‘Did Simon have any enemies?’

‘No. Not really. Not before working there, anyway.’

What does that mean?

Imogen could sense by Leon’s increasingly agitated manner that they were skating closer to the real issue.

‘How come you both moved from Corrigan Construction? Did you get fired?’ Imogen said.

‘I had to move out of my flat and back in with my parents. My mum’s not been well and I needed a job closer to home, that was all. I was trying to help my parents out a bit. They need some building work doing around the place and I thought it best if I moved in here and did it,’ he said, scrambling for words.

Imogen wondered if any of them were true.

‘And Simon?’

‘I just told him there was a space for him if he wanted to move and he decided to take me up on it.’

Imogen exchanged a look with Adrian. It was clear to both of them that Leon was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. He had become evasive and couldn’t meet their gaze.

Adrian pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed Leon a photo of the Jane Doe they had found near the spot where Simon was discovered.

‘Do you know this woman?’ Adrian asked.

Imogen studied his face for a reaction. It was momentary, but it was there. He recognised her.

‘Sorry, no. I don’t know who she is.’

‘We are trying to locate this woman as we are concerned for her safety. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated.’

‘I wish I could help you, but I can’t.’ He stood and walked over to his kitchenette in the corner, flipping the switch on the kettle. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.

‘It’s clear to me that you aren’t telling us something,’ Imogen said. ‘I don’t know what that is, Leon, but it’s going to come out. You could save us all a lot of time and energy if you just tell us what you know.’

‘I can’t,’ Leon said. ‘You don’t understand. You should just drop it and walk away.’

‘Are you scared of someone? Is that what this is?’ Adrian said.

‘I’ve told you everything I can. I’m sorry. I can’t say any more.’

‘Leon, what happened at Corrigan Construction? Why did you leave?’ Adrian said.

‘We just wanted a change,’ he said, leaning against the counter for support, a hint of desperation in his voice.

‘Come on, Leon. Tell the truth. We can take you down to the station and ask you questions there on tape, if you want. Or you can tell us right now what the issue was. Why did you leave Corrigan Construction? Did you have a problem with someone there?’ Imogen asked.

Leon took a deep breath, then another. He was considering his options. Whatever he wasn’t telling them was weighing on him. He went to speak more than once then thought better of it each time. His eyes were glassy and bright.

What wasn’t he telling them?

‘It was a nightmare,’ Leon said, tears falling.

‘In what way?’ Imogen said softly.

He was on the brink of telling them – all he needed was a little push.

Leon turned away from them, his eyes streaming. He wasn’t just crying, he was distraught.

‘Tell my parents I’m sorry,’ he said, his hands flat on the worktop as he breathed heavily.

A panic attack, Imogen suspected. She was no stranger to them.

Imogen saw the knife in his hand too late. She rushed forwards as he raised it in the air, but she couldn’t reach him in time. He plunged it into the centre of his chest and collapsed to the ground.

What the hell was going on?

Imogen was on the ground with him seconds later then she heard Adrian on the phone requesting an ambulance as she frantically clutched at his chest and tried to stop the blood from pouring out. He spasmed and struggled for a few seconds but no more than that. She felt his heart labour then stop. He was gone. The pained look on his face was also gone and she could see the peace wash over him.

Imogen’s hands were covered in blood and she didn’t know what to do. She looked up at Adrian, who was on the phone but staring at the body on the floor. What was it that Leon hadn’t wanted them to know? What was he afraid of? Who was he afraid of? For all the questions Leon had answered, with this latest action he had opened up a whole load more. Too stunned to think, Imogen sat back on her heels and just watched the red stain on Leon’s shirt get bigger. Who would answer their questions now?

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘What the hell happened?’ DCI Kapoor snapped at Adrian and Imogen as they sat in her office.

Imogen could see the dark line of blood under her fingernails. Even though she had scrubbed her hands, she could see it and feel it. She clenched her hands into fists and tried to forget what had just happened.

‘We were just talking and he … he just stabbed himself,’ Imogen said.

‘That’s highly unusual behaviour, isn’t it?’ DCI Kapoor seemed just as baffled as them.

‘Well, yes,’ Adrian said, nodding.

‘And there was no indication before then that he was going to do that?’

‘He was agitated, but we had just told him that his friend was dead,’ Imogen said.

‘What did he say about Simon Glover?’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘They used to work together. As soon as he brought up the old job at Corrigan Construction, his demeanour changed completely. He became jumpy and anxious. I got the impression that he killed himself to avoid having to divulge anything else. He had secrets and it was all to do with that job they had together in Exeter. Something must have gone on down there,’ Adrian said.

‘You should have brought him in for questioning. I wish we had the exact words he said on tape. He never should have had that knife,’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘With all due respect, Ma’am, we speak to people in their houses all the time; this is not something we have ever witnessed before. It’s not as if we could have anticipated he was going to do that. It came from nowhere,’ Imogen said.

‘Well, I want both of you to see the counsellor and talk this through.’

‘We’re fine,’ Imogen said, huffing.

‘Then it shouldn’t be a very long session, should it?’ DCI Kapoor replied, conversation over.

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Adrian said.

‘What did he say then, before he died? What the hell was he hiding?’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘He gave us an envelope with a letter for Fiona Merton inside. A goodbye letter from Simon, saying he was leaving and not to worry about him. We’ve handed it to Gary to match handwriting samples. Quick also gave us a Jiffy bag that had two brand-new passports in there. They were vacuum-packed, but we got one of the forensic techs to open it. They belong to Simon and the woman from the hospital, Jane Doe, but with a false name for him, so we assume for her also.

‘There were also train tickets into London, then Eurostar tickets to Paris, France, and then a flight to Montreal, Canada. Judging by what happened to them, I would say they were running away from someone. When we asked Leon Quick about their time at Corrigan Construction and why they left, he got more and more anxious. That seemed to be the trigger for … what he did. We were in there less than ten minutes,’ Imogen said.

‘Well, brace yourselves. The family liaison officer has been speaking to the Quicks. They are obviously very distressed, said he was fine before you got there but obviously dead when you left. The parents were understandably upset by the whole thing and so the FLO is trying to make sure they are OK and also advise them against lodging a complaint, which they had mentioned. She’s very good, so I am sure it will be fine.

‘Walsh is already looking into Leon Quick to see if he has any history of mental health issues or suicidal tendencies,’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘I just don’t understand what happened. Something we asked him provoked that extreme reaction in him. He looked terrified of something. Then he picked up that knife and stabbed himself. How do you even do that? How do you push a knife into yourself like that?’ Adrian said.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Imogen said.

‘I just don’t understand what could have been so bad that he would rather kill himself than talk about it. And kill himself like that, too. To just make that decision in that split second like that. I feel sick just thinking about it,’ Adrian said.

‘Do you think he was involved in Simon Glover’s death? Maybe he felt guilty,’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘It didn’t seem so. It wasn’t guilt, it was fear,’ Imogen said.

‘Although he wasn’t surprised, I got the impression he was genuinely upset when we told him what happened to Simon Glover. I don’t think he was involved in his death. No, he was afraid of something or someone. I imagine it’s probably connected to what happened to Glover,’ Adrian said.

‘I can’t be certain, but I think he recognised the woman as well, even though he pretended he didn’t. Our Jane Doe,’ Imogen said.

‘I don’t suppose he told you who she was before he offed himself?’

‘I’m afraid not. It wasn’t long after we showed him the photo that he took his own life,’ Adrian said.

‘Right, well, it’s too late to do anything else today. At least we got the passports; although the chances of us finding out where they came from are pretty slim. Go and write up your reports about what happened, then tomorrow morning go to Corrigan Construction. Maybe you can find out something more,’ DCI Kapoor said.

‘Thank you, Ma’am,’ Imogen said and stood up.

They left DCI Kapoor’s office and went back to their desks. Still shocked. The anguish on Leon’s face played over in Imogen’s mind. The DCI was right; he never should have had that knife. This case got more complicated with every passing moment.

Imogen pulled up the report form onscreen and stared for a moment, unsure where to start.

‘We’ve got two dead bodies and a missing woman,’ Adrian said, breaking Imogen’s trance.

‘But at least we have a lead. Something happened at their last job; you could see it in his eyes. I’ve never seen anyone go from mildly uncomfortable to such extreme agitation so quickly. He was beside himself. Was he distressed about something he had seen? Was he afraid of someone? Whatever it is, the answers are at that construction company.’

‘He was fine when we got there, a little on edge maybe. I just don’t understand what happened,’ Adrian said. ‘Maybe we need to look at why he moved back in with his parents, too? Did he lose his flat, or did he choose to move back home to look after his mother, like he claimed? Was it a financial decision or something else?’

‘We definitely don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle at this point,’ Imogen said, staring at her hands again.

‘Are you OK?’ Adrian said.

‘I just … I don’t understand how anyone could do that. That wasn’t a cry for help. The force he stabbed himself with, he wanted out.’

‘It was crazy.’

‘What could be that bad that he would rather end his life than talk to us about it? He was terrified.’

‘We’ll get the answers eventually. At least we have someone else to work on,’ Adrian said.

‘Where the hell is that woman?’ Imogen said.

In all this, that was the part Imogen had the most trouble understanding. Neither Jane Doe nor Leon Quick would speak. She risked her own life by leaving the hospital to avoid any questioning and Quick ended his for the same reason. Who were these people and how were they connected?

‘Gary said he checked MisPers against her photo; there was no one matching her description reported missing.’

‘How is that possible? Does she not have a mother or father? We assumed she was married, but maybe the ring was something else.’

Adrian leaned closer to Imogen and lowered his voice. ‘Stay at mine tonight? I don’t think either of us want to be alone right now.’

‘You’re not wrong.’

She stayed at his most nights; in fact, she rarely went home. After a couple of months seeing each other in secret, they were on the brink of being in a serious relationship, she could feel it. It was exciting but at the same time, as usual, it came with a whole host of other complications. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone before. It wasn’t the crazy-making irrational lust she usually felt for someone when she thought she was in love with them. It was something much calmer, much more grounded and dependable. Was this the real deal? Did he even feel the same? Adrian was the kind of person who said what was on his mind and she still wasn’t sure how he felt.

Imogen started typing, filling out the fields on the form as succinctly as possible. Before she had joined the police, she didn’t fully understand how different people react under pressure and she had seen all sorts of things before – but this? This was a new one on her. More than anything, she wanted to know what had caused Leon Quick to do that to himself. The worst thing was accepting that she might never find out.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The head office of Corrigan Construction was in Matford Business Park just outside Exeter city centre. The building itself was more substantial than Adrian was expecting. A large red-brick-and-grey structure the length of several houses, with windows stretched across the front so you could see the staff inside at their desks. The lobby was a wide-open space with a high glass ceiling and a reception desk in the centre. The walls were a dark slate grey and the wall facing the entrance had an enormous painting on it, which must have been over twelve foot square.

Adrian stared at the painting as they both approached the desk, a contemporary swirl of reds and browns; even with his non-existent knowledge of art he could tell this was an expensive piece and not just something off the rack. He turned to the young woman behind the counter, who looked up and smiled. The smile dropped when Adrian held up his warrant card.

‘Can I help you?’ She returned her eyes to the computer screen.

‘I’m DS Miles. My colleague over there is DS Grey. We need to speak to someone about a former employee of this company.’

‘Do you have a name for this employee?’

‘Simon Glover. Do you know him?’

‘Vaguely. I saw him around. Is he in trouble?’ she said with uninterest, continuing to tap away on her keyboard.

Adrian couldn’t tell if she was actually busy, or if it was just a pretence.

‘Is there anyone here who did know him?’ Adrian asked.

‘I’m just checking out which projects he was on and which crew he worked with,’ she said as she hammered away. ‘He worked our biggest contract last year, that new multistorey in town, which means he knew most of the guys.’

‘Who is the person in charge, then?’

‘Do you mean the gaffer on site, or the head of the company?’ she asked before adding, ‘Actually, on that project it was the same person. The big boss. Mr Corrigan isn’t in just yet. Jimmy Chilton is in, though; he’s the next most senior member of staff on that project. He’s just in a meeting at the moment, but if you wait over there, I’ll get someone to call him out.’

‘Thank you.’

Imogen and Adrian moved to one side and waited as the girl on reception carried on with what she was doing. Imogen turned to face her and put her hand on her hips. No one was better at passive aggression than Imogen. When the girl looked up again and saw Imogen, she finally picked up the phone and called through to someone, rolling her eyes at the same time.

‘We’re in the wrong job. Look at this place!’ Adrian said.

‘Pretty fancy; there’s obviously a lot of money in construction,’ Imogen said.

‘I wonder who or what in this place spooked Leon Quick so much,’ Adrian said.

‘Officer?’ A man in his late forties with a scruffy peppered beard and a red baseball cap walked towards them with his hand outstretched to Adrian. ‘Jimmy Chilton. What can I do you for?’

He turned his hand to Imogen, who reluctantly shook it. Jimmy Chilton looked out of place in this grand lobby, as though he had just clocked off after a long-distance lorry trip.

‘We’re here to talk to you about two former employees of yours,’ Adrian said.

‘Two?’ Jimmy Chilton said.

He ushered them to the far corner of reception, away from the receptionist’s earshot.

‘Simon Glover and Leon Quick.’

‘Ah, right. Yes.’

‘Are you familiar with them?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘What can you tell me about them?’ Adrian asked.

‘They were often late; sometimes their work was sloppy. Spent more time chatting than working. We had to let them go.’

‘We were led to believe they both left of their own volition,’ Imogen said.

‘I don’t know where you got that information from, but it’s incorrect. They were both fired. Why do you want to know why they left?’

‘Who let them go?’ Adrian said.

‘Probably me or Reece. Reece Corrigan. We do most of the hiring and firing. I’m afraid I don’t remember exactly which one of us did the actual firing. You’d be surprised at the sheer volume of turnaround in staff within the construction industry.’

‘When was the last time you saw either Simon Glover or Leon Quick?’ Imogen said, unconvinced by his vague response.

‘Oh, it’s been months. I haven’t seen either one since they left.’

Adrian noted that Chilton hadn’t asked why they were asking questions about the two men. People usually ask, curiosity getting the better of them. It could just be that Chilton didn’t actually give a monkey’s, or maybe it was something else. Maybe he already knew.

‘What time does your boss get in?’ Imogen asked.

‘Today, he won’t be in until after lunch.’

‘We’ll need to speak to him. Could you tell us his address?’ Imogen said.

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, his calm, collected look turning to one of unease.

‘Ruby on the desk can give it to you. I need to get back to my meeting, if that’s all?’

‘Thank you, Mr Chilton. Don’t leave town; we may need to question you again.’

Chilton nodded and walked over to the desk, instructing Ruby to give them Reece Corrigan’s address. She gave them a suspicious side-eyed look as Chilton spoke.

‘What do you make of that, then?’ Imogen asked Adrian, her eyes fixed on Chilton as he went up the stairs.

Adrian had noticed that his behaviour wasn’t right. It was obvious just from speaking to him that Jimmy was lying and keeping secrets. He didn’t seem to be afraid in the same way that Leon Quick had been, but there was something weaselly about the man.

Adrian turned back to Imogen when Jimmy had finally disappeared from view.

‘God knows. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.’

‘Let’s go get this address and visit the big boss.’

‘Maybe he can shed some light on this situation,’ Adrian said.

‘What are the chances of that?’

Chapter Twenty-Four

I should have known better than to think I could escape, that there was any chance for me to have a normal life. I don’t even know what that is. Everything has been so twisted for so long now that I really think I am where I belong. There is no Hail Mary for me, no last-minute reprieve.

Being back home is like riding a bike with a broken seat or slipping into an uncomfortable pair of shoes that you can’t remove. I wish with every fibre of my being that I had died on that riverbank, and yet I survived and here I am, back here again. Groundhog Day.

Every day is the same, I wake up and then I pretend to be the person he wants until it’s time to go to sleep again. I may as well be a doll or a robot. I am barely human at all.

Slipping out of the hospital was easy enough; no one thought I would go. People are always underestimating me and that’s fine. I don’t really care. I wonder if I really care about anything, anymore. I used to want to get away, but now I think I have used up nine lives and not all of them were mine. This is where I belong, uncomfortable shoes and all.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Since Imogen and Adrian had started dating, things had definitely changed at work. As they drove out to Reece Corrigan’s home address, Imogen found her cheeks warming as she watched Adrian drive. She had never really thought about how attractive he was, as if the mere fact of her thinking about it might inflate his ego. He was a more cautious driver than her, didn’t seem to wander off in his own head as much as she did. He was definitely more at peace than he had been in a long time. Since his last girlfriend, Lucy, was murdered in connection with an investigation they were conducting last year.

She remembered when they’d met, how she had assumed so much about him and yet within just a few hours they were completely at ease with each other. You don’t get that every day. Imogen knew that this could get tiresome at some point. That one day she might not want to spend the day with the person she spends her nights with, but for now it was easy, it felt right. These moments together in the car were her favourite, she had no idea why.

‘Do you think the DCI knows about us?’ Imogen said.

‘No, I don’t, do you?’

‘I can’t imagine her not pulling us up on it. What would you do if she does?’

‘Then we deal with it, I guess. I’ll move, if she wants, to another department, another team or something.’

‘You would do that?’ Imogen said, taken aback by the very idea.

‘Why not? Wouldn’t you?’

‘I feel like I’m just getting settled here and don’t really want to change again. I like the way things are.’

‘I like it too, but I think I like you more. I’ve been here since I started, maybe a change would be good for me.’

‘I wouldn’t want to feel responsible for that.’

‘I know, but you wouldn’t be. I have thought about this before. After losing Lucy and now finding myself with you … I know I hadn’t been with her long, but it was the first time in a long time that I thought I was capable of a real relationship. When she died, I thought that was it for me. No more chances. Sometimes you just have to decide what you want most – and I know you’re more important to me than this job.’

‘Where would you go?’ she said, surprised that he had given this any thought at all.

‘I have no idea. Maybe I could train new recruits for a while, or maybe I could move to canine division.’

‘Dogs?’

‘What’s wrong with dogs?’

‘Nothing. You’ve just never mentioned it before.’

‘It could be time for a change, anyway. I don’t want to piss off the DCI and who knows, maybe you’ll like me even more?’

‘Not sure that’s possible.’ She smiled.

He put his hand on her knee and squeezed. This felt like an unusually mature approach to the situation from Adrian, Lord knows he wasn’t usually so level-headed and measured when dealing with matters of the heart. They had been through a lot together over the last couple of years and she had seen him at both ends of the spectrum, high and low. There was no doubt that he had grown and changed into a different person. She liked to think she was at least partially responsible for that.

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